Smolder: Trojans MC (52 page)

Chapter Six

Just act like everything is normal
, Falcon said to himself. But it was hard; he was aware of everything he was doing. He was conscious of his footfalls and his gait, he was aware of the way his arms swung as he walked, was this normal? He suddenly couldn’t remember. And his mind kept wandering back to a few hours before, when Detective Grace Santiago had been on top of him crying out in pleasure while his hands were entwined in her hair.

He shook his head to clear the memory. The truth was, he couldn’t act normally, no matter how hard he tried. He had just been arrested and screwed a cop on an interrogation table; normal was officially off the table. But he had to pretend. If any of the Screaming Eagles found out he had turned on them, well, there weren’t really words for what they would do to him. He knew it would be painful and endless and that was more than enough. So even though it felt impossible, Falcon forced himself to pretend as if the last six hours had never occurred.

After their jaunt in the interrogation room Detective Santiago had pulled Falcon out of the room and given him her cellphone number. He was only supposed to call her in case of emergencies. She reminded him again that she would be the one making the calls, and she would be the one giving him orders, not the other way around. Grace then pawned him off to some plainclothes rookie who gave him his bike back from lock-up and Falcon then headed straight for the club.

Taking a deep breath Falcon remembered everything that depended on this. His freedom and his future with Sophie were on the line. He needed to do this for her. He pulled up his phone and there, on his home screen, was Sophie, smiling up at her dad.
Do it for her
. He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

At first he was hit with a wall of noise. The clubhouse was alive and active, like an anthill that had just been hit with a hose. Screaming Eagles members and groupies filled the clubhouse and it was loud as music played and they all tried to talk over each other. The clubhouse smelled like cheap beer, cigarette smoke, and weed smoke, with a nasty undercurrent of that terrible, chemical meth smell. In a corner he could see a gaggle of biker girls slumped over patched-up, cheap looking couches a pipe passing from shaky hand to shaky hand.

And then everything stopped. There was no more noise as every head in the clubhouse turned to face Falcon as the door swung closed behind him.

“Holy shit, Falcon?” It was Billy. He stood up from the stool and took a step towards Falcon and as he walked he unbuckled his gun from his holster. He didn’t actually take it out, but he didn’t need to. It was a gesture and a signal and at the same time every other biker in the clubhouse found their gun and repeated the movement. “We thought you got picked up. Where you been, man?” There was a menace to Billy’s tone of voice, a threat everyone could hear.

“I had a cop on my tail, took me a while to lose ‘em.” Falcon said, focusing on sounding relaxed and nonchalant as he walked towards the bar. He looked at Billy and then made eye contact with as many bikers as he could. He gave them all a crooked smile and a shrug and he felt the rest of the room relax a little. “I tell you, man, I wish you guys had been there. We went back through the woods and onto the highway. It took me fucking miles to get rid of the cop. He rode good for a fat pig.”

There were chuckles around the room as men took their hands off their guns and put them back around their drinks.

“They pick anybody up?” Falcon asked. He had made his way to the bar where a beer and a shot were presented to him. He reached for the shot and prayed his hand would stay steady as he lifted it to his mouth. He poured the shot down his throat and followed it with a swig of the beer. He leaned against the bar and smiled at the bikers on either side of him, he was starting to feel more relaxed; it was easier than he thought to pretend.

“They got Eric in the truck, he tried to run, but they caught him in the forest. He’s got a lawyer and he’s clammed up like a good boy. He’s a real Screaming Eagle that one, taking the fall so the rest of us can live free,” Billy said, his hand still near his gun. “The only person missing this whole time was you...”

Falcon shrugged again. In his mind at that moment he believed his story, he had run from the cops and spent the rest of the day running, only appearing when the coast was clear. He had not been arrested; he had not had crazy sex with a hot detective on an interrogation table. “They got Eric? Fuck. That’s sucks, man. We got protection for him on the inside?”

“A little, but it depends where they send him,” Billy said.

A door marked private in the back of the clubhouse slammed open as a giant of a man came marching out into the bar. If the room had been quiet before, it was deadly silent now. That was Big Chris coming out of the back room; he was the boss's personal heavy and you did not fuck with Big Chris. “Falcon,” he said, his deep, baritone voice easily carrying over the large, silent clubhouse. “Boss wants to see you, now.”

“Yup,” Falcon said with a nod. He drained his beer and with a shrug at Billy he turned and walked casually back to the boss’s office. He walked through the door and looked around and the inner sanctum of the ruler of the Screaming Eagles. The office was smaller than Falcon would have thought; it was a square, windowless room that was dominated by a huge wooden desk. Falcon had heard the story of that desk: it had belonged to his great-grandfather who had been a judge and the desk had passed from father to son until it finally found a home in the Screaming Eagles’ clubhouse. From judge to biker, it was quite the downhill ride for that giant oak desk.

They called him Boss because his actual name was Ernie. Ernie wasn’t exactly a name that conjured up fear in the hearts and minds of men. But as the boss liked to tell it, Ernie was a family name. It was the name of the desk’s original owner and the boss didn’t care if you called him Ernie, but everyone called him Boss anyway as a form of respect.

The top of the desk was spotless and the boss was sitting behind it, his elbows resting on the smooth wooden surface and his hands pressed together in front of his face almost as if he were in prayer. But he wasn't praying; he was thinking. As Falcon entered the room, Big Chris followed him and closed the door behind him, isolating the trio. Falcon noticed the smallness of the room, the lack of ventilation and the cigarette smell off of Big Chris.

“Where you been, Falcon?” His eyes remained on his hands and he asked the question in a dull and flat voice, as if the answer didn’t really interest him. Ernie was an older man, but he still looked intimidating. He was tall and strong with dark hair and dark eyes. His arms were covered in tattoos and two black teardrops were tattooed under his left eye. He had a scar that ran along his right cheek and it moved when he smiled or frowned. 

“The pigs gave chase,” Falcon said. He focused on imagining his pretend story; his life and his life with Sophia depended on him making this work. “I grabbed my bike and made a path through the leaves, avoiding the bear traps and then I turned down one of the forest paths. It was the one that leads to the freeway. This cop followed me, I don’t really remember what he looked like, and I could only catch glimpses of him behind the trees. He was decent on the bike, stayed with me through the winding path,” Falcon envisioned the chase in his mind as he invented it. A male cop chasing him, but always a few feet behind with Falcon staying just in front of him. “And then I made it to the highway, but so did the cop. I knew I needed to get off the freeway as fast as I could, so I passed two exits and let him catch up with me. Then, when the next exit came, I made a hard right, cutting off about three cars, but I made the exit and lost him. From there I was just racing through street roads, trying to figure out if the LAPD had an APB out on me. I rode all day. I’m tired as hell.”

“On which exit did you lose the cop?” The boss asked.

“Exit four oh three,” Falcon answered. “You know, the one by the sharp turn in the road?”

“And then you were on street roads?”

“Yep, I can’t remember the exact ones. I was just driving, trying to create distance.”

The boss said nothing. He just sat and stared at his hands, and then he looked up into Falcon’s eyes. He didn’t speak or change his expression at all; he just stared at the other man. Falcon held his gaze, unsure of what else to do. At that moment the story he had crafted was the truth. He could see the fiction in his own mind and it was as true as anything that had ever happened.

Seconds ticked by until they turned into minutes and still the boss said nothing and just stared at Falcon and Falcon stared back. He knew this was a power play and he knew the most patient would be the winner.

Suddenly the boss gave a nod to Big Chris and without a warning Big Chris grabbed Falcon by the back of his neck and slammed his face down on to the boss’s pristine desk.

“Are you lying to me, Falcon?” There was anger in his voice.

“No! I’m not lying, I swear it!” Falcon said, he struggled against Big Chris but it was useless, the larger man’s hand clamped around the back of his neck, was holding him down. There was no way for him to get loose.

“Have you turned snitch for the cops?”

“What! No, I would never turn rat. I would die first, Boss. I swear it.”

“I think you’re lying,” the boss sneered, standing up and walking over to where Falcon was trapped. “I think you’re lying. I think you’re weak, I think the cops brought you back the station and you cut a deal and now you’re back to rat on your fellow members. I think you’re a filthy traitor and do you know what we do with filthy traitors?”

“I didn’t, I swear it! Check me for a wire, there’s nothing!” Suddenly Falcon was lifted to his feet as Big Chris grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head and then he was slammed down onto the table again.

“You don’t need to wear a wire to be a snitch,” the boss hissed.

“No, but it certainly fucking helps,” Falcon yelled back. “I’m not a snitch. I don’t know how to prove it to you, but I’m not. I swear on my father’s grave.”

“Your father was a son-of-a-bitch bastard. I was there when you spit on his grave, swear on something real. Swear it on your daughter’s life.”

“Leave her out of this!” Falcon yelled.

“Swear it on her life. The life of your little innocent daughter and know this, Falcon, if you have betrayed me, her life is forfeit.”

“I swear on her life that I’m not a traitor. It happened like I said, I escaped the cops and then I drove around until I thought it was safe enough to come home. I swear it on my daughter’s life!”

Finally Big Chris let him up. And Falcon stumbled for a moment and steadied himself on the desk. Chris threw his shirt back to him and Falcon dressed quickly.

“Let’s get one thing straight: I am watching you, and if I find out that you’ve betrayed me I will make an example of you. I will visit horrors upon you and your daughter that you cannot imagine. I will torture you until you are broken and only when you are reduced to a blubbering mass begging for your own death will I finally let it end. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand,” Falcon said looking the boss in the eye.

Chapter Seven

It had been three days since Falcon had sworn his innocence on the life of his daughter. He had no other choice. If he admitted he had turned snitch, Big Chris would have killed him right then and there. The whole point of working with the cops was so Falcon could be a part of his daughter’s life. He hadn’t wanted to involve Sophie, but the boss had done it anyway.

If anything, threatening Sophie had only furthered Falcon’s resolve. Who was Ernie that he would threaten an innocent little girl? Sophie had nothing to do with any of this, but, somehow, she would have been made to suffer for Falcon’s mistake. It confirmed everything Grace had said the other day. He knew then that he made the right decision and he was sticking with it. The Screaming Eagles didn’t care about Falcon or his family and they certainly wouldn’t look after them if anything happened to Falcon, so it was up to him and helping the cops was the best way to do it.

Falcon was ready to get to work and he was ready to talk, but he hadn’t heard from Grace. He checked his phone constantly and made sure that it wasn’t on silent, he was ready. He wanted her to call, he wanted to hear her sexy voice, he wanted to see her again, and he wanted to fuck her again.  But he was met with only silence from Grace and he wasn't the kind of guy who got all sappy over a woman, so he got back to work.

But he thought about Grace constantly. He remembered what it was like to kiss her. Being with her had been like some kind of wrestling match. They had pushed and pulled against each other, fighting and fucking at the same time. He had never been with a woman who had been so active and present during sex. Sometimes, when he was with a girl from the club, they would just lie there, or roll their eyes waiting for it to be over. But not Grace, she had wanted it and him; she had come when he was inside of her, crying out in pleasure on top of the table.

He wanted her again. None of the other girls meant anything to him anymore. The groupies at the club were even sadder than they had been before. He no longer felt anything when he was in a room with them. He didn’t want to fuck them; he didn’t even want to touch them. He wanted Grace. He wanted to make her scream and writhe against him. He had moves that would drive her wild and he wanted to show her each and every one. He wanted to make her beg for it.

But she hadn’t called him and he couldn’t call her. It was strange, but other than the occasional fantasy about her, he had almost forgotten about his deal with the police. He had so thoroughly convinced himself of his fake story during his interrogation with the boss he had almost forgotten the truth.
Almost
; he knew he was living in denial and he knew that couldn’t last forever.

The life of a biker could be a busy one and after the raid on the processing center the boss had them all working twice as hard to make up for the loss. Falcon woke early that morning and checked up on the meth supplies they had hidden around the city. The police had taken the processing center, but they had other places to work and other stashes set aside. The Screaming Eagles were prolific and had set up shop in empty apartments and abandoned trailers all over this part of town. As part of his job, Falcon drove from point to point making sure everything was working and on time.

He met with their dealers. Men who lived in the bad neighborhoods and slung the meth the Screaming Eagles had made. They had heard about the hit, but they were impressed they were still moving forward. He met with his suppliers and talked about prices, and always he was watched. Either Big Chris or Billy went with him on jobs he used to do alone. It was degrading, but there was nothing Falcon could do about it. It was funny, he was annoyed that they were following him, but they were right to watch him; he had turned against his gang. The thing was, it was easy to pretend otherwise. Falcon didn’t feel any guilt or shame over betrayal of the Screaming Eagles. Grace had been right: he was a foot soldier, nothing more. The Screaming Eagles would have thrown him into a cell themselves if they thought it could bring the boss more money. Falcon was on his own now, he was looking out for himself and Sophie and no one else.

It was eight o’clock on the third night and Falcon had just returned to his apartment. He came home gone straight for the shower, letting the hot water massage his strong arms and firm back. He was toweling off when his phone chimed. The name on the home screen said Princess Bubblegum and Falcon’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the fake name he had used for Grace. Without hesitating he grabbed the phone and answered it quickly.

“This is Falcon,” he said.

“It’s Detective Santiago. Are you alone?”

Her voice brought him back to their liaison in the interrogation room and he wondered if she had been thinking about it these last few days, if she had been thinking about him.

“We need to meet,” Grace said.

“That’s gonna be hard,” Falcon said. He began to pace around his small one-bedroom apartment, walking from his room to his kitchen and then back again. “The gang is watching me all the time. I’m never alone. I think I’ve got them convinced that that nothing happened the other day, but they still don’t’ trust me. They suspect something.”

“You think you’re going to get out of this? That I’ll just go away? You made a deal and now it’s time for you to keep your half of it. I need information; real information and you need to give it to me. Think, Falcon,” she said. “There has to be some time you can get away. Think.”

“Tomorrow,” Falcon said with a sigh. “I’m taking Sophie to the beach tomorrow. It’s my weekly visit and the gang knows all about it. We’re planning to go to Venice Beach. Can you meet me there?”

“Yes, what time?”

“Eleven thirty, but you can’t come looking like a cop. They might be watching.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know how to blend in. How are you? Are they giving you any flack? You said they suspected something.”

“I was gone a long time,” Falcon said. “It looked suspicious.”

“Maybe you should have left earlier,” Grace said and there was a hint of gentle teasing in her voice.

“No way. It was worth it,” Falcon responded grinning into the phone.

“Well don’t get any ideas. It’s not happening again,” Grace said.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Detective,” Falcon responded. “You don’t know the half of what I can do. Don’t you want to find out?”

“I found out plenty the last time,” she said.

“That’s right. I can still remember the sounds you made when you came, the expression on your face, the way your breasts felt in my hands. Imagine what we could do if we had more time, if we didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking in on us...”

“Well, it’s time to stop imagining. We need to get to work. Arresting as many Screaming Eagles is the only thing you or I should be thinking about right now.” Her voice was suddenly stern and Falcon wondered if she was trying to control herself. There was something in her voice that made him think that there was more to her phone call than just their professional relationship. 

“I know you want it,” he said. “That little taste the other day wasn’t enough. I know all about addicts. One is never enough, you’ll always want more.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“You want a man, a real man. Not some pussy that works in an office all day. But a strong man who works with his hands, a man that’s not afraid to bend you over the table and have his way with you. A man that’s not afraid of a couple of bites or hits. I am that man, Grace, and I know you want me.”

“Stop it,” Grace said, but there was a hitch in her voice, a gasp she had tried to cover.

“I’m going to make you beg for it the next time we’re alone together. I want you to think about it, think about me between your legs. Think about a real man having his way with you.”

“The beach, tomorrow. Eleven thirty. Be there or I arrest your ass.”

The line went dead and Falcon smiled to himself putting down the phone. Detective Grace Santiago. She was a real woman, nothing but strength and conviction on the surface, but underneath there was an ocean of passion begging for release. Maybe they could slip away tomorrow at the beach; it didn’t need to be long. Falcon knew what she liked, he remembered it well and he couldn't wait to give it to her again.